


What happens on stage...

by TheRealhero



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Affection, Anal Sex, Band Fic, Bathroom Sex, Best Friends, Cheating, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, Homosexuality, Hotel Sex, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Sexual Content, Stage Gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 22:12:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealhero/pseuds/TheRealhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Brendon starts on stage, Ian is forced to finish. Not that he minds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What happens on stage...

The heat from the stage lights was still burning on his skin, even in the shadows of the curtained off areas. It was like a buzzing that took hours to go away. No matter where they played, it was there. The heat of excitement and high of performance. Ian would never ever get used to it. Not in all the time he’d performed with The Cab or Panic!. It was just something that sucked you in and lifted you higher than any drug could hope to. That didn’t stop them all from drinking and smoking though, trying to ride it out just that much harder. 

With the fans still screaming, the guitarist downed another bottle, finishing it and tossing it into a trashcan nearby. He could hear Brendon’s voice carrying over the techs and stage hands. He was still singing even though they were done. His voice cracked from the strain but it never stopped him. He smiled and looked around. It wasn’t Brendon that caught his eye though…it was Dallon Weekes, their bassist. He was standing next to Spencer by the cooler. His eyes were sharp and locked on the smaller man. Ian smiled some and swallowed hard. He knew that look.

Dallon was a married man but most of them had a girl at home waiting so it wasn’t much different. Being on tour was different though. It was hard and it was draining. The constant traveling and being away from the people you loved sucked. And getting any time alone to chat or use your precious phone time for something more…fun…was difficult. Ian knew that first hand. But there were ways to cope, ways to get by the hunger that welled up after so many weeks away. He’d never considered such things until he met that bassist.

Grabbing another beer, Ian turned and casually started walking back towards the halls that shot off under the stage. There were bathrooms back there. Doors with locks. He twisted off the top on his drink and had a long swig, letting it linger in his mouth before he found the bathroom. A quick glance over his shoulder told him he was alone in the hall, so he slipped in and shut the door silently. The lights in the room were dim and flickering occasionally. It didn’t scream sanitary but most of the places he ended up weren’t anyway. Not much difference there.

While taking another long tip from his drink, he heard the door opening behind him. In the mirror, he could see Dallon slipping in, shutting and locking the door behind himself. He was sweaty like the rest of them, his white button up sticking to his smooth back. Ian took a deep breath and his drink down. Before, he’d never had much interest in guys. Dallon had changed all that. Granted it was a painful lesson to learn, he didn’t care. Every moment after that was so beyond intense, he knew he’d been seeing real stars each time he came.

Dallon turned around slow, a grin sweeping onto his handsome face. He had that look, the one he usually got when he wasn’t ready to play games. Brendon had teased him hard on stage. Ian could see the bulge in his pants from across the floor. Their singer was usually the reason the pair of them ended up like this. Urie was a tease, the biggest around. He worked Dallon up hard and then walked away, thinking it was all a joke. A cruel game. But the guitarist was more than willing to handle the situation in his place. And so far, he’d not received a single complaint from Dallon. He seemed to love it.

The bassist came up fast, looking his lips hard against the smaller man’s. His lips were wet and salty, pressing so firm that Ian was forced back against the sink. He let out a short sound of protest but it was short lived. Seconds later, Dallon pulled back, breathing hard and looking dangerous. He worked long fingers through the younger man’s long curly hair. No words were needed between them. Sometimes they spoke, working each other up. Tonight, that would just make it worse. They both knew that. The guitarist was hard in his pants, aching to be touched but waiting because he knew exactly how Dallon liked it. He was then shoved downwards, forced to kneel in between the sink and the taller man. 

The fingers of his free hand came down, working his own pants open right in Ian’s face. As soon as his cock was out, he wasted no time before stroking himself. Ian stared up at the other, eyes drifting from face to waist over and over. He could see the beginnings of clear fluid starting to roll over the head. He’d just licked his lips when Dallon’s hand forced him forward. He parted his lips and took in his length, choking just a little as inch by inch was shoved in. He was incredibly lucky he’d mastered his gag reflex. Dallon didn’t take no for an answer.

Wrapping wide lips around him, Ian waited, breathing hard through his nose. When the bassists grip loosened, he started moving his head, sliding it quickly over him. He could taste the precum on his tongue, just as salty as the man’s lips had been. His eyes shut tight and he swallowed around his head teach time it pressed to the back of his throat. The hand vanished from the back of his hair, instead, Dallon pressed both his hands to the sink over Ian’s head. The soft whispered curses did not go unheard. He could practically fell the frustration in each thrust of his hips.

Soon enough, his speed wasn’t enough and Dallon started to rock his hips faster forward. Ian’s hands came to rest on his hips, trying to hold his balance while the taller man effectively fucked his mouth. His teeth grazed over the skin and Dallon groaned, his head thrown back in a soundless gasp. It was clear he wasn’t going to last long. So Ian sucked harder, his cheeks pressing in as he moved faster. He made a gasp of his own when Dallon suddenly pulled out. He wrapped his hand around himself and stroked a few times. Then he came, spilling his release across Ian’s lips and chin. Breathing hard, he stared up at the other as it dripped down, falling on his bare chest. The bassist groaned and rubbed his dick over the younger man’s lips, riding out what looked like a very intense orgasm.

Ian had been just seconds away from reaching down his own pants to quickly jerk off when the knock came. Brendon’s voice sounded through the bathroom, calling them back out. Dallon cursed and leaned down. He kissed Ian hard, not even concerned about his own cum now on his lips. Pulling him to his feet, he grinned. “Clean up, hotel next.” He said, giving a wink and brushing his talented fingers across the front of Ian’s pants. The smaller man groaned, his hips pressing forward. He was so hard and now had to make the trip to the hotel in a car full of his friends. He could already feel the heat burning into his normally pale cheeks.

The entire car ride, Dallon stared at him. The intense desire in his eyes made it entirely impossible for Ian to lose his painful hard on. He had simply crossed his legs and kept quiet, feigning that he was just exhausted from the show. It wasn’t entirely a lie. But he knew that Dallon wasn’t going to let him sleep. Not for a while. When eyes were turned away, the bassist had rubbed his own pants, showing Ian that he was fully hard again. The guy was impressive sometimes. It had brought on a new round of red to Ian’s face but he tried to pretend he’d not seen anything at all.

But when they arrived at the hotel and said their goodnights, Dallon had all but shoved him into the room. He dropped his stuff and turned around, finding his lips soon captured by the taller man’s. Walking backwards, the pair shrugged off one article of clothing after another. He was glad to be out of the stick show attire but it wasn’t his main concern. He just needed skin. And so did the man who was practically tearing off his things. By the time they hit the bed, there was nothing left between them but what they wanted.

Before he knew it, his back was against the bed, his body pinned down by the larger body of the bassist. Their bodies were still slick and pliable, making them slide over one another in just the perfect ways. His cock was trapped between them, rubbing just right. He groaned into Dallon’s mouth, trying to focus on the kissing but finding it hard. He was just so needy that all he could really think about was cumming. He wanted it so bad. He could almost feel it, rocking him towards the edge. One last little thrust between them and he knew…

“Shit…” Dallon said as he looked down. Ian came hard, his hips rocking up as he shot over his own stomach. He was breathing hard and half smiling. “Sorry Dal…I just…fuck…” he said, unable to keep a sentence straight. A small laugh came as he rode out the feeling of his orgasm. Dallon’s hand on his dick made his entire body tense up. He was over sensitized and almost cried out as the man started to stroke him fast. “Fuck stop stop…” he whined, the feeling being just too much. His plea was met only by a laugh and the shaking of the other’s head. “It feels good.” He said, as if he could feel it as well. Ian just squirmed, his body trying to escape the over whelming feeling.

Dallon leaned up and used his free hand to slide a finger through Ian’s cum. Lowering his hand, he rubbed the slick finger over the smaller man’s entrance. The feeling made Ian arch away, unable to handle anymore. There was pressure and soon Dallon was sliding one long finger in. He moved slow, letting Ian get used to it, even as his other hand kept stroking slower. It was all too much, he called out, his body arching and twisting. Dallon assaulted him slowly, working him open with finger after finger. It didn’t take long because his hands were so big. As he scissored open his entrance, Ian was left panting and grasping at the sheets as if they could save him from the pleasure that was taking over his whole body.

Then he felt it. Dallon’s cock pressing against him. The older male was holding his breath, halting his strokes as he lined himself up. Ian gasped out as he pressed in slow. Each inch sunk farther into him until he was entirely filled. It was uncomfortable at first but he took in quick breaths, waiting for it to get easier. Slow thrusts started, easing them both in until Ian was able to take it harder. It didn’t take nearly as long as it used to and he was beyond thankful for that now. Dallon was no small guy and fitting him anywhere was a challenge.

Dallon worked his arm under the other and pulled him up before rolling. Ian pressed his hands down, balancing himself on the man’s chest as he reoriented himself. It was a little dizzying but he adjusted fast. Staring down, he shook his head. “Dal I’m spent….” He said but the look in the other’s eyes told him he was speaking on deaf ears. Dallon thrust up, his hand moving to rewrap around Ian’s half hard dick. It was still sensitive and the second he squeezed, the guitarist gasped and rocked his hips. His partner groaned and rocked his hips. Before long, they were moving together, Ian riding over the other faster with each thrust. He couldn’t help it. He was caught between trying to thrust into Dallon’s hand and trying to push down to drive him deeper.

“Fuck fuck…” he moaned out, his head falling forward. Long curls covered his face, bouncing with his movements. He hadn’t done it like this in a while, so he forgot exactly how straining it was on his legs. The muscles in his thighs were burning wild, his cock hard and red. Dallon kept working over him, drawing out one moan after another. When he looked up again, he could see that he wasn’t the only one being thrusted onto the edge. Dallon had his head pressed back against the pillows, his lip caught between perfect white teeth. 

Ian parted his lips, more turned on by the image of Dallon in such a state. He pressed down harder on his chest and moved faster. He was instantly rewarded with a heated groan from his partner. The older man, thrust up faster, his hand matching that pace. Flushed and panting hard, Ian called out, Dallon’s name breaking from his lips. Then he came a second time. A release half the size of the first spilled out, dripping down over Dallon’s stomach and fist. But of course, Dallon didn’t stop. His hand kept moving, managing to push Ian into what felt almost like another orgasm. His body locked up and almost dropped forward. His body was so over pressured that he barely felt Dallon cum. The other man came, shooting off deep inside him. It was only then that his hand stopped. 

The pair stayed like that, breathing hard and unable to move. Moments passed before Dallon wiped his hand against the bedding. He leaned up, making Ian groan. Brushing back his hair, he kissed the young man on the lips, the gesture ginger. He smirked and Ian knew a rude remark was on its way. But that was just Dallon. “You taste like my cum. Slut.” He said, but his voice was soft and teasing. The guitarist smiled and leaned against him. “Remind me to thank Brendon later.” He said, earning him a laugh from the other man. He leaned in to kiss him again, this time with more feeling. And just like that, Ian was ready for sleep and another show to start it all over.


End file.
